Jace And The Santa Clause
by toocoolforbeth
Summary: Jace doesn't know why he feels left out at Christmas. Maybe a midnight ride with a jolly, bearded man we all know and love will help him figure it out. ONE SHOT. a few months POST COG. My gift to you. Merry Christmas.


**Hey there! This is just a Christmas one shot I wrote, as a sort of gift to the M.I fandom. I don't know if it's any good, but review and let me know, yeah? **

**DISCLAIMER: I don' own the M.I series as much as Santa doesn't own the reindeer. They are free animals. They can't be tamed. Kinda like Miley Cyrus. **

**Enjoy. **

Jace lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling. It was almost one thirty in the morning and Alec, Isabelle, Robert and Maryse were fast asleep (He'd gone to each of their doors and peeked inside, hoping to find a bit of company). The worst part about it was that Jace had no idea t\what was keeping him awake.

After all, It was Christmas Eve. No well, technically it was Christmas.

Christmas was something seldom celebrated by Shadowhunters. The holiday was something that stemmed from Christianity; Shadowhunters did not follow the Bible. They followed the teachings passed down to the Shadowhunters by Jonathon Shadowhunter, on behalf of the Angel Raziel. In fact, the only reason Jace was aware that it was Christmas Eve was Clary. Being raised as mundanes, both Clary and Simon were looking forward to the holiday. The pair had spent the past 24 days educating Jace in the traditions of mundane Christmas; the exchanging of gifts, kissing under the mistletoe, the massive feast on Christmas day, filling the stockings.

Clary had spent an entire evening teaching him about the fable of Santa Clause, the jolly, bearded man in a red suit that slipped down the chimney or through the bedroom window and left colourfully wrapped gifts underneath carefully trimmed Christmas trees. She told him of how he was originally supposed to be a Dutch man named Nicholas, who, every year on what was supposed to be Jesus' birthday, would leave gifts for all the Children in his town. When Nicholas died, the people stopped expecting gifts, but alas, even though the doors were locked, when the children awoke Christmas morning, the gifts were there waiting for them, same as any other year. People now referred to him as Father Christmas, Santa Clause or St Nicholas. It was kids stuff, Clary had told him. She'd stopped believing it years ago.

Now, Jace fidgeted in his bed, the once soft bed linen now irritating his skin. Sighing and rubbing his five o clock shadow, Jace pulled himself up out of the bed and into the Institutes hallway.

The kitchen was its usual self; it bore no signs of the holiday. Jace didn't know why he was suddenly noticing the lack of festivities in the Lightwood household. He had always known about Christmas-it was hard not to notice something so prominent in society, no matter how closed off you were from the rest of the world. But, for some reason, Jace almost wished that Shadowhunters did celebrate it. Even though he wasn't really into the whole "joy and happiness and family love" type of thing, he couldn't help but feel he was missing out on something.

He took hold of a glass, filling it with water from the tap and walking to the lounge room, which was basically just a room with a couple of couches, a coffee table and a fireplace. Jace plunked himself down on a couch yawning. In the far corner of the room, to the left of the fire place, on top of a small end table, sat the sole decoration in the entire institute.

It was a Christmas tree, or what constituted as one. It was just a silly, plastic pre trimmed tree, no taller than a foot high.

Jace blinked at the tree. There was something different about the tree, something about it that hadn't been that way when he went to bed earlier that night. It took him a moment to get it, but when it did it hit him like a punch in the face.

There was a small present underneath the tree.

Jaces eyes widened, almost bulging out of his head. He shot out of his seat, spilling a few drops of water on the carpet. Placing his drink on the coffee table, he inspected the present. It was long and flat, like a book, but not thick. The item was wrapped in green paper, adorned with several glittering snowmen and a big red bow. It held no name tag.

Who had put it there? Had it been Clary? No, it couldn't have been. She was at Luke's for the night, and hadn't been in the Institute since this morning. Magnus? That would explain the glitter. But Magnus didn't strike Jace as the type to buy one present, and leave non for the rest.

So who was it then? He was pondering over this mystery, still staring dumbly at the parcel when he heard a shuffling behind him.

Jace reacted in a flash. He was up on the coffee table, dagger in hand before he could even fully register what was happening himself. What he saw was the last thing he expected to. No, it was not Alec or Isabelle, or even a demon. Although, when he thought about it, it was highly unlikely for a demon to be able to get past the wards.

No, what he saw was not one of his family members or a creature rose from hell. What he saw scared him twice as much as any of those things, purely from shock.

There, standing behind the couch, was Santa Clause. Sack and hat included.

Jace lowered the dagger, the confusion of the situation disturbing him more than any forsaken or bed-headed Isabelle ever could. The jolly red man lowered his sack and pulled off his hat, revealing a mop of unruly white hair.

"Hello Jace." Santa said to the stunned boy, "How has your Christmas been so far?" Jace stuttered,

"What-who-how?" The elderly man waited patiently for Jace to wrap his head around the situation.

"You," The blonde boy pointed a finger at Santa, "You're Santa Clause, right?"

"That's correct."

"But you're not real. You don't exist. You're just a fable, a kid's tale." The old man smiled kindly at him.

"Is that really what I am?" Jace nodded. "Well, if that's true, then how are we standing here having this conversation, exactly?"

Jace did not have an answer for that one. Regaining his confidence, he hopped down from the table. He was happy to discover that standing up he was a good three inches taller than the so called Santa.

"If you're Santa," Jace smirked cockily, having regained his equilibrium, "Prove it."

"If that's what it takes." The bearded man then walked to the window, which looked out onto a side alley. Wrenching the window open, he stuck his head out and whistled.

Jace watched in awe as eight magnificent horned reindeer pulled up beside his lounge room window, hanging in mid air. Gaping, Jace stuck his head out the window. The reindeer were strapped together with a red velvet rope. Adorning the rope was a million golden bells that jingled with every flick and twitch of muscle coming from the mystical animals. In tow was a shining red sleigh, looking as though it had just been polished thoroughly. The rim and legs of the contraption were a very pale gold, matching the bells. Santa jumped through the window and onto the dark red leather seats, taking a hold of velvet reigns. He looked sideways at Jace, who was still gawking like an idiot.

"Well," The jolly man said, "Are you coming?"

"Coming?"

"Yes, coming. I need your help."

Jace blinked, "Why would you need my help? Don't you have elves or something?" Jace reflected on Clary's description of the tiny little men and women in pointy green hats, working day in and day out all year to make gifts for all the children of the world.

Santa shrugged, "I did have an elf, but he fell out."

"He fell out?"

"Yes."

"Off the sleigh?"

"Yes."

"Why would he do that?"

Santa smiled and shook his head, "Poor Walter didn't realise exactly how much alcohol was in the eggnog. Poor kid fell off at some point over the Atlantic."

"Is he alright?"

"Oh yes, of course. He'll find his way back alright."

"Ah."

So, are you coming?" Santa repeated.

"What? Oh yeah." Jace hesitated. "Can you have me back by sunrise?"

"Of course I can, I'm Santa!" The man laughed, grabbed Jace by the collar of his dressing gown and pulled him into the sleigh.

XXX

Three hours later, Jace was standing back in the same lounge room. Santa was leaning against the window sill, raving on about the night.

"That was fantastic Jace, my best night yet. Usually by this time I'd still be hurrying to cover the last couple of countries before the sun came up. But here we are, already done and the sunrise has barely started yet." He was right. The only evidence of sun they could see was the faint glow of light behind the horizon, turning the edge of one side of the sky a faint bluish green.

To be honest, the entire night felt like a big blur to Jace. He couldn't remember many details; perhaps he was still in shock at the sheer unlikelihood of the events that had take place that night.

"Now, Jace." Jace turned to look at the old man. Looking into his pale blue eyes, Jace could see how very incredibly old this man was. Even if his face said he was no older than sixty five, his eyes told a different story. A longer story.

"I think," Santa continued, "That I owe you something. To thank you for all your help."

"Oh, don't worry about it." Jace really hated it when people felt they owed him something.

"No, no, it's what I do best." Santa smiled at him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Jace waited.

"Jace, your present isn't anything physical." The blonde boy blinked at the older man.

"It isn't?"

No, it's not." Jace mad a face.

"It's not Christmas spirit, is it?" Santa laughed, a deep, rumbling sound.

"No, no. Jace, you'll find my gift to you, soon enough."

"What?"

"You will figure out what your gift is, but first you have to wake up."

Jace opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly the ground was slipping out from underneath his feet. And then everything went black.

Jace's eyes flung open, and he was back in his bed. He sat up and looked around. Yep, this was definitely his room. It was all just a dream.

There was a knock on his door, and he told whoever it was to come in.

A redheaded figured appeared from behind the door. Clary. He beamed at her, getting out of the bed. She grinned back, and half ran towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He kissed her softly, sweetly, smiling against her lips.

"Merry Christmas," She mumbled against him, giggling.

"Merry Christmas," He reciprocated her laugh. Pulling away, Clary reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small package, the size of a postcard.

"Here I got you something." He grinned and took it, "It's not anything big, but it's more sentimental than anything."

He tore open the red and white polka dot wrapping, to reveal a dark wooden photo frame. Inside the frame was a picture of the two of them at thanksgiving with her family.

"It's perfect." He handed it back to her, "Wait here, I got you something too." Reaching into his bedside table he pulled out an off white card, cover blank. He handed it to her.

She opened it up, surprised when a fine gold mist fell from the card. Inside, taped to one side was a snow white flower. She recognised it as one of the Midnight flowers from the greenhouse. Most of the gold talcum still sticking to the card. On the other side of the card was a small verse, scrawled in black ink, as if from a calligraphy pen. It read;

_This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,  
>Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,<br>Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou  
>lovest best.<br>Night, sleep, and the stars._

"It's a poem by Walt Whitman," Jace said when he saw her reading; "It's called 'A Clear Midnight'. It reminded me of that first night, in the greenhouse." He shrugged sheepishly.

"Like yours, it's more sentimental than anything else."

Clary wasn't saying anything. She was looking at the card with a mix of emotions that Jace didn't recognize. He opened his mouth to ask her if she was all right, but he never got the chance. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. He enclosed her shoulders in her arms, her red curls bunching up and over his arms.

"It's perfect," She echoed his words, grinning from ear to ear. "Thank you." Then she pulled away, and he missed her warmth.

"C'mon," She said, "We'll be late to meet the others at Takis." He nodded, pulling out a tee shirt, jeans and a jumper. Once he was dressed they made their way down the hall. Jace still felt uneasy, despite everything.

They were walking past the lounge room when something caught Jace's eye. He stopped in the door and looked into the room. It was still there; the present. The present he knew had to have been left by Santa. It hadn't been a dream after all.

He could hear Clary asking him what was wrong, but ignored her, walking dumbly towards the tree. He picked up the gift and sat back on the coffee table. Clary sat on the couch in front if him.

"What's that?" She asked.

"I'm not sure." Jace pulled at the ribbon, undoing the carefully made bow, the satin cloth fell away to the floor. He tore open the wrapping, revealing what was inside.

He stopped and stared.

It was a comic. Naruto, to be precise.

Jace opened the front cover and turned to the first page. A white card fell out. Picking it up, he read;

_Jace. This is my gift to you. Maybe now that you know why, you'll be able to get some sleep._

_Nick. _

Suddenly everything made sense. Everything that Santa had said, all the things that had happened made sense.

It was about Max. It was always about Max.

It wasn't him who was missing out on anything; he wasn't the one who was deprived. It was Max. Max should have been the one Clary taught about the legend of Saint Nick. Max was the one who should be getting presents and helping Clary trim her tree, not him.

He never had the chance, never got to choose. He would never have what Jace had, and it wasn't fair. That's why Jace couldn't sleep, because none of it was fair. Max was just a little boy. A defenceless little boy with some much ahead of him. And he had that ripped away. It wasn't fair.

He didn't realise he'd been crying until Clary silently went to him and, leaning on one knee on the table next to him, wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace.

He angrily wiped the tears away, choking down the sob that had risen in his throat. What was arong with him? He was Jace Lightwood, and Jace Lightwood does not cry. He hadn't since he was six years old, so why start now?

He held her by the waist and tucked his head under her chin.

"You know what?" She said, stroking his hair, "Let's just blow them off." Jace looked up at her in surprise. Clary never backed out of plans, ever. There had been countless times when he'd tried to convince her to ditch Isabelle or Simon so they could do something just them together, but she'd always refused.

"Seriously?" He asked.

"Yeah," She leaned down and put their foreheads together, smiling down at him, "Let's do something together, just the two of us."

He nodded, and they got up. Jace slipped on his coat, and they headed down the elevator, and out into the snow covered streets.

Jace never told Clary, or anybody for that matter, about what he'd done that one Christmas Eve. He felt like that it was a secret, something he had to keep to himself. He felt like he owed it to the jolly old man in the ridiculous red suit. After all, he had given Jace the one thing he thought he needed the most.

Now, maybe, he could get some sleep.

**That was a bit sadder than I originally intended it to be. **

**Oh well, Review please! **

**And Merry Christmas. **

**Love, with all the cheer she can muster, Beth. **


End file.
